


Distance and Dinner

by MarbleAide



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Family, Fluff, Gen, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 03:39:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5442026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarbleAide/pseuds/MarbleAide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the first thanksgiving where the family's not all waking up together and Dick is very late, much to Damian's distaste.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distance and Dinner

**Author's Note:**

> This was my cute thanksgiving fic, taking place in my normal!AU wherein all the kids are just siblings and Bruce adopted them all.

“Where’s Dick?’ Damian asks for the fourth time that day. No one’s actually around to him hear him—no one human at least. 

Titus is sitting on the windowsill with him, his head in Damian’s lap as the child’s hands keep petting his head. His ears twitch whenever Damian talks as if to indicate to the child that yes, he’s listening to him complain. 

It’s snowing outside. Not as hard as it was the day before, but it’s still falling. Gentle and calm, the entire front yard of the house is covered in a layer of white that gets shifted and gusted up with every blow of wind. It’s nearly one in the afternoon, Damian’s been sitting at the window for two hours now with Titus beside him, napping. 

“Where’s Dick?” He asks the dog again, his face so close to the window it fogs up with his words, the cold glass biting at his nose. 

Jason comes down the stairs to find Damian sitting right at the window, hearing his mantra, and rolls his eyes. “Kid, Dick’s gonna get here when he gets here. Don’t worry.” 

Damian pulls his eyes away from the window to glare at Jason—a very important task seeing as he’s risking Dick coming up the driveway without him spotting him immediately. 

“He was supposed to be here yesterday.”

“And there was a storm yesterday, he couldn’t make it. Don’t worry,” Jason repeats again, moving to the window to sit down with Damian, though he’s teetering right on the edge with how big Titus is and how the lazy dog refuses to give up any space seeing as Damian is still patting at his head. “He’ll be here before dinner. How about you come help me and Alfred finish up with the cookie decorating?” 

His arms are outstretched to pick Damian up, take him into the kitchen, but before Jason can even get his arms around him, Damian’s shouting out ‘No, Nooo!’ while smacking at Jason’s hands. 

“Ow—ow, alright! Alright, calm down, stay by the window. Be the alarm when Dick gets here.” Jason gives up and moves away, leaving Damian in his spot where he’s at least content. He makes sure to text Dick before going into the kitchen though— _speed up, you’ve got a fan waiting for you._

Cass is in the kitchen with Alfred, an apron around her waist while she cuts apples into perfectly even slices. Jason steals one just to get his sister to glare at him which always makes him smile before he’s turning to Alfred who’s finishing up with the last of the cookie dough they’d made the night before. 

“Need any help?” He asks, leaning against the counter.

“No,” Alfred doesn’t even look up from his cookies and Jason swears their babysitter is actually counting out the perfect amount of sprinkles to put on each—not that he’s complaining. This is their first thanksgiving with Alfred, but not the first holiday, and he’s well aware of how amazing Alfred’s food tastes, so if his secret to the best damned sugar cookies he’s ever had comes down to counting out sprinkles, so be it. “Thank you, but I have everything under control. Though…is Timothy up yet?” 

Cass actually snorts.

“He normally doesn’t get up until the food’s actually on the table.”

“Wake him up, please. I’m sure your father would like him actually showered and dressed for dinner.” 

Jason laughs, moving forward to quickly steal a little bit of leftover dough, getting out of Alfred’s reach before he could protest. “Gonna need an incentive. If I’m not back in twenty minutes, send in backup.”

He’s gone before Alfred can give him a proper lecture on eating raw cookie dough, each of them having received it at least twice since Bruce hired Alfred to watch them. 

Tim’s room was pitch black when he opened the door, forcing Jason to pause for his eyes to adjust before moving forward. Navigating Tim’s bedroom was like walking through a minefield of clothes, school supplies, and whatever other mess Tim had decided to drag into his dwelling that day. Honestly, Jason had no idea how Bruce forced Tim to clean his room once a week and it still ended up being the disaster that it was. 

He kept making facing as he moved around the room, only thankful that Tim had stopped playing with legos seeing as he still had scars and indents from stepping on the things years ago. 

“Tiiiim,” He called softly when he finally got to Tim’s bed. His brother was sound asleep, hair sticking up everywhere, with drool on his pillow. The gaming headset he used was still sort of on his head and the controller was still within reaching distance. It wasn’t unusual for Tim to stay up way past his bedtime when he was off of school, especially when those days off coincide with that of Bart and Kon’s schools as well. “Timmy, time to get up.” 

Jason waited a few seconds, watching as Tim only drooled more before he finally rolled his eyes and moved to the curtains of Tim’s room, counting to five in his head before ripping them open, sending bright white light blazing into Tim’s bedroom. 

The kid groaned loudly, his eyes squeezing closed as he quickly turned away from the light, pulling his blankets up over his head. 

“Oh, no you don’t.”

Jason was quick to rip the blanket off of Tim’s bed before he could get a good grip on it, hearing his brother whine loud as he scrambled for anything to keep the cold away. Jason also grabbed Tim’s pillow, pulling it right out from under his head so Tim was left with nothing, just curled up into a ball in his bed looking half sleep and pissed off.

“What the hell, Jason?” He finally said, one eye opened so he could shoot a sharp glare at Jason. 

“Alfred wants you up like a normal human being. Here,” Jason shoved the bit of cookie dough into Tim’s face who looked at it suspicious before taking it and popping it into his mouth. “Breakfast. And if you’re fast enough you might be able to steal more before they all go into the oven, but you’ve got to be fast.” 

Jason slammed the door closed on his way out, just because he knew it would make Tim wince, before heading back downstairs.

“Still no Dick?” He asked, passing Damian. 

“He’s gonna miss Thanksgiving.” 

“Keep waiting Dami,” He pulled his phone out, checking his messages—one from Dick reading _‘traffic is shit! Tell him 2.’_ And Jason shook his head. “Two o’clock, Dami. If he’s not here by then, you have permission to disown him.” 

Damian didn’t say anything back, just made a grumble of a noise and pet Titus a little harder. Titus too huffed, moving his head so Damian would scratch at his neck.

Jason left his youngest brother again, going into the living room to flop down on the couch and turn on the tv. The parade was over, but the dog show was still going on which, usually, had Damian’s attention captivated for two solid hours as he made little comments on each dog and how they should enter Titus in the show next year. This time around, Damian was too concerned with Dick not being here and it was understandable. This was the first year Dick was off to college, meaning the first year he wasn’t home to wake everyone up for the traditional cinnamon bun breakfast. Bruce hadn’t even had time to do it, seeing as he had an emergency meeting with a Japanese investor that morning which had him out the door before nine as soon as Alfred was over to watch them all and take over with the cooking. 

Alfred had offered to make the cinnamon rolls, but at that point Jason was only just waking up, Cass had already eaten a small breakfast, Tim was still dead to the world, and Damian had glued his face to the window. It felt like a weird start to a holiday that they all weren’t really prepared to start admitting things were going to be changing now. Dick hadn’t been home since September, Jason was graduating in another year and a half, and who knew where he’s end up. It was already a struggle with Dick only being three hours away.

Jason didn’t really want to dwell on it all, trying to focus on the show dogs being paraded around the stadium. 

Bruce came home before Dick got there, looking tired and cold, but relaxed instantly upon getting through the door. Jason didn’t blame him. The house smelled like cooking turkey and baked goods. He stopped by Damian before going into the kitchen, getting the full story on why his face was getting imprinted into the glass before giving a hello to Jason who waved back from the couch. 

The kitchen erupted in conversation and noise when Bruce walked in, mostly of Tim’s good mornings and Alfred also scolding Bruce for probably taking a finger full of mashed potatoes from the bowl Alfred was working on. Bruce only laughed, making sure his kids were well behaved while he was gone and thanking Alfred over and over again for coming over when he did.

Things got a little louder when Dick finally arrived. 

“He’s here, he’s here, he’s here!” Damian suddenly started yelling out, jumping from his spot on the windowsill with Titus hot on his heels, barking when his young master kept yelling, his tail wagging like mad. “Dick’s here, Dick’s here!” Damian continued to scream as he darted for the door and pulled it open, racing out into the snow with little more than his pajamas still on. 

Bruce cursed and went after him, the rest of the family hot on his toes, but they didn’t catch him before Dick did. 

“Damian—oh my god, hold—there’s ice on the driveway!” 

It didn’t seem to matter and Damian quickly found himself in Dick’s arms, hugging his older brother tightly to the point Dick looked to be choked. Tim quickly moved into the hug, squeezing around Dick’s waist and Cass came in behind him. Jason sighed, shaking his head as he finished off the group hug of trying to suffocate Dick as quickly as possible. Titus barked all around them, racing around the family while wagging his tail. He was surprised they didn’t actually all fall down in a giant heap on their asses. 

“You’re late!” Damian started as soon as he’d pulled away from Dick to squeeze his cheeks. “You said you’d be here yesterday!”

“I’m sorry, Dami, there was a storm and I couldn’t get here.” Dick replied through a squished up face from the five year old. 

Damian kept up glaring for a while before finally letting it go, dropping his hands to let Dick’s face go back to normal. “Fine. But you missed my play too!”

“You were in a play?” 

“A thanksgiving play at his school.” Tim filled in, having let go of Dick, but not removing himself from his side. “Jason got it on video.”

“Oh my god, Dick, you need to see this kid.” Jason grinned, patting Dick on the back as they all made their way back inside out of the cold of late November. “He’s the most pissed off Indian I’ve ever seen.” 

“Native America!” Damian quickly snapped. “And they said I couldn’t pretend to poison the pilgrims—they killed all the Native Americans anyway, it would have been even.” 

“You can’t pretend to kill your classmates, Damian.” Bruce huffed out, having had to deal with that parent-teacher conference this past Monday when Damian apparently wouldn’t let it go during rehearsals. Damian had sat in the little plastic chair the entire hour pouting and grumbling. 

“It’s great, seriously. I got everything on camera for you. We can watch it after dinner.” 

Things fell into a more comfortable place after that. Damian attached himself to Dick on the couch, sitting practically on his chest as the rest of them huddled around the living room to finish up with the dog show. Bruce and Alfred were in the kitchen getting the rest of dinner ready, though Jason was almost positive it was mostly Alfred cooking and Bruce being an unnecessary ‘taste tester’. 

Most of the time before dinner was spent catching up. Dick talked on and on about college and the exams he had coming up, Tim talked about the science fair project he was working on, Jason didn’t say much besides the fact that everyone in school was still crying about losing the Golden Boy that was Dick Grayson. Cass was happy to just sit on the floor listening to them all while Damian almost didn’t shut up about every detail of the past few months he could remember to inform Dick about. 

Dinner was finally called and they all got up in a wave to take their place at the dinner table, eyes wide at the variety of food they had with Alfred’s careful hand. 

“Holy shit,” Jason breathed out. “Nothing’s burned.”

“Jason.” Bruce snapped.

“No, he’s totally right.” Dick cut in to defend his brother, grinning at their dad the entire time.”Was the butterball hotline not called this year?” 

“Dick.” 

All of the kids started to snicker until Alfred cleared his throat and Bruce thanked him. 

“Now,” Bruce started, “Before we begin—Tim put the fork down—we’re going to go around and say what we’re thankful for.” 

Jason, Tim, and Dick all groaned, but they said nothing with the look Bruce was giving them. 

“Damian, would you like to go first?” 

The youngest nodded before thinking for a minute, a look of pure concentration on his face. “I’m thankful for Dick not dying in a snowstorm.” He said, very matter-to-factly. “And the ninja turtles.” 

“I’m thankful,” Jason took up right afterwards. “For Alfred’s godly culinary skills.” 

Tim went next. “I’m thankful thaaat….dad’s gonna let me go shopping tomorrow morning?”

“No.”

“Dad!” 

“No.”

“There’s an awesome deal on—“

“No, because last year you and Jason got into a fight with a woman over a blender. We didn’t even need a blender.” 

“I’ll take Cass!”

“No, Tim.”

Tim huffed, falling defeated back into his chair which made Bruce happy for the time being, moving on to Cass. 

“I am too thankful for ninja turtles—“ Damian beamed. “—and everyone being here for the holiday.”

“And I’m,” Dick said, “Thankful my car did not break down on the way down and I’m here with my family.” 

“As am I,” Bruce smiled, looking to Alfred across the table. “Alfred?”

It took him a moment to speak up, with the entire family looking at him, the last of them before they could start eating. Alfred hummed. 

“I’m thankful for having the opportunity to be here with you all, seeing as someone is going to have to call the doctor when you all fall over with salmonella poisoning.” 

They laughed, then dove in. 

—

When it was all over, with the dishes mostly cleaned up and the leftovers put away, they all sat in the living room watching the video of Damian’s school play. Damian had a grumpy running commentary until he fell asleep. Tim followed him soon after, the pair leaning against each other as they napped, looking as loving towards each other as Jason’s ever seen.  
Bruce fell asleep in his arm chair halfway through the play, a crease in his brow and his arms crossed. Cass put a blanket over him. 

Alfred was in the kitchen preparing the desserts, though Jason assumed they wouldn’t actually come out for at least another hour. Cass got comfortable curled up in the love seat by herself, Titus was laid out on the carpet in what Jason could only describe as a turkey hangover seeing as Damian kept feeding him piece after piece under the table. 

Dick sat next to Jason, the youngest of them pressed against his side, with his eyes glued on the tv screen watching as a grumpy Damian dressed in a mostly construction paper outfit had to act like he didn’t want to pretend-poison half of the cast. Dick laughed softly when Damian refused to say the two lines he was given. Jason could help but smile with him. 

“Hey,” Jason said, nudging Dick with his elbow. “I’m glad you made it—that you’re here.”

Dick smiled back at him. “Wouldn’t have missed it for the world, Jaybird. Besides, there’s still a tube of cinnamon rolls in the fridge. Someone’s gotta keep the four of you fed.”  
Jason chuckled, letting his head fall against his brother’s shoulder, closing his eyes. “Just remember to spread the icing evenly.” Jason snuggled a little closer, yawning. “Don’t need Tim and Damian fighting over the one with the most icing again…”

“’Course not, Jaybird. ‘Course not.”


End file.
